


Until Forever

by Stardust-and-Supernovas (PyroJellyfish)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Demi-sexual apprentice, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn, cross-route storyline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15993848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroJellyfish/pseuds/Stardust-and-Supernovas
Summary: Ourania is apprentice to Asra, the magician.  She has no memories prior to three years ago, when she opened her eyes to Asra’s worried face and he took her under his wing.  One day, Asra departs on one of his mysterious ventures, just before Ourania receives two surprising visitors: Nadia, Countess of Vesuvia, and Julian, Count Lucio’s murderer.  Little do any of them know, those two unexpected visits set in motion a series of events that will change all of their lives forever—for better or for worse.AKA my attempt to combine the storyline from each route into one cohesive tale, while also romancing Julian with a demi-sexual apprentice.





	1. The End Is Where We Begin

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to try my hand at combining all aspects of the different routes into one cohesive story, and then I saw a post on tumblr about someone being uncomfortable with how Julian’s route was so sexual because they were demi. Being demi (or at least somewhere on the gray-a spectrum) myself, and also cheap and never having enough coins to unlock the ‘steamy’ scenes, I decided I’d incorporate that into this story too. Work title is from the Eva Under Fire song ‘Until Forever’, which just seemed appropriate. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Never give it up_  
>  Never give it back  
> This is all for you  
> Keep your heart attached  
> Tell ‘em that we’re here  
> Until forever (oh oh oh) until forever  
> With our hearts attached
> 
>  
> 
>  

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The end is where we begin  
>  Where broken hearts mend  
> And start to beat again  
> The end is where we begin_  
> ‘The End is Where We Begin’, Thousand Foot Krutch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I couldn’t quite decide if I wanted to subdivide the chapters as they are in the game or my own way, but if I did it based on the game this first chapter would only be 500 words and so I’m splitting them up my own way, but still heading each new section with the corresponding game chapter. Should probably be obvious, but just in case…spoilers abound, for Julian’s, Nadia’s, and Asra’s routes, including some of the paid options. Since no other routes are available at the time I’m writing this, and only one Tale has been released, I don’t plan on incorporating those at present. I’ll leave a note if that changes so ya’ll have some warning about other spoilers.

**I: The Magician**

“Are you sure, Master?” I ask in confusion, blinking down at the precious tarot deck my teacher had just placed in my hands.

He chuckles lightly. “Why wouldn’t I be? I trust you.”

“But…do you think I’m ready?”

“I can’t answer that for you, Ourania. You’ve made so much progress these last three years, but you still doubt yourself…” He trails off, but smiles as I sigh in exasperation. Why did the blasted man never answer my questions directly? It was infuriating.

“The cards hold the answers though,” Asra continues. “Perhaps we should ask them?”

“Er…okay,” I said. It had been quite some time since Asra and I had done a reading together—too long. My mysterious master was frequently gone for long periods. I hardly ever knew where he was, or when he would come back. But come back he did, appearing at the shop with a bright smile and a warm embrace. 

He holds the curtain dividing the main shop and the reading room aside for me, then sits in the plush chair set aside for our clients. I take the chair across from him, and begin to shuffle the deck. 

Something cool brushes along my ankle above my sandals, making me jump. Asra chuckles. 

“Hello, Faust,” he greets his familiar as she slithers her way up to his shoulder. Once there, she treats me to a small snake smile, tongue flickering out and tail twitching happily. 

“Are you here to watch the reading, Faust?” I ask her teasingly. She bobs her head up and down. 

“We’d best get on with it, in that case,” Asra chuckles. 

I set the deck down for Asra to cut, and then lay a few cards face down on the table, letting my fingers roam over them. There’s one that seems to call to me, and I flip it over. The High Priestess: a symbol of the internal world, our inner voice and intuition. But I know Asra wants me to delve deeper. 

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, letting the magic flow through me. 

“You’ve forsaken her,” I say, hearing my own voice as though through a long tunnel. It sounds tinny and strange to my ears. “You’ve pushed her away, and buried her voice. She calls to you, but you don’t listen. You must listen. If you don’t…”

A firm knock on the front door startles me out of my trance. I start abruptly as the High Priestess’ words drift away into nothing. Asra meets my eyes with a startled glance. 

“A customer?” He asks in confusion. “At this hour?”

I stare back at him, feeling disoriented from my forceful return to the mundane, still trying desperately to remember the High Priestess’ message for my master. 

“It’s just as well, I suppose,” Asra says, taking my hands in his. “I need to be on my way.”

“Must you?” I blurt, then feel my face heat with embarrassment. 

“Yes,” he sighs. “But I’ll miss you. And I’ll be back.” My hands feel cold as he withdraws his hold on me, and before I can even take a breath he’s scooped up his satchel. A wide-brimmed hat covers his unruly white hair, and he winds his thick scarf around his neck. With one last smile and a wink, he’s gone out the back door.

**II: The High Priestess**

My body moved automatically, following my master’s steps to the door, and reaching out to twist the lock. My mind, however, was still trying to catch up to his sudden departure. I have a vague feeling of foreboding, which I attribute to the interrupted reading. What would happen if Asra didn’t listen to the High Priestess?

My gaze drifts back to the table, where the figure on the card stares up at the ceiling. If I still my mind, maybe I can hear the rest of her words…

Impatient knocking reminds me of why Asra left so abruptly. I hurry to the front door, the one opening onto the street with the brightly painted sign advertising the shop hanging above it. A small hole drilled into the center of the door at eye level provides a useful portal for seeing our late-night caller. 

I don’t recognize the person standing outside. Their face is shadowed, hidden in a deep cowl, but the weak lantern outside illuminates fine clothes. I see the glint of jewelry as the figure lifts their arm to tug the cowl more thoroughly over their face. 

I sigh, and step back to open the door. It is not in my nature to turn away someone in need, and if their finery is anything to go by, I doubt I have to worry that this is some robber. 

“Forgive me for the hour,” the mysterious patron says as they squeeze by me into the shop without waiting for an invitation. “But I will not suffer another sleepless night.”

Ah. A well-to-do woman of some sort, by the voice and clothes, who needs a cure for insomnia. I have herbs aplenty in the shop that will help her. I open my mouth to say this, when the figure drops the cowl away from their face. Red eyes set in a deep bronze-skinned face with fine features, framed by luxurious fuchsia hair, meet mine.

The Countess watches me with a calm expression, while I gape in shock. 

The Countess of Vesuvia. Is here. In my shop. What do I do? Am I supposed to bow? I’ve only seen paintings of this woman, at least that I can remember, so Asra never taught me the protocol for meeting nobility. In fact it’s been well known throughout the city that Countess Nadia could not be bothered to leave her opulent palace and see the citizens of her fair city. Rumor claimed her mind had been addled by the unfortunate murder of her husband, Count Lucio.

“Please, you must read the cards for me,” the Countess says as I continue to stare, mouth hanging open. Then my brain catches up to my ears.

“Wait…read the cards?” 

She gives me an amused smile. “Yes.”

“Ah…I’m afraid you may be looking for someone else…” I falter.

“No, it must be you,” she replies confidently. “This is the shop, and you are the magician.”

“I—I’m just the magician’s apprentice,” I stammer, but she shakes her head emphatically. 

“No. You are the one I need. I have seen it in my dreams. And if you accept my proposal, I will reward you accordingly.”

“You’ve seen me in your dreams?” I repeat, bewildered. 

“Yes. Seeing visions of the future in my dreams is a somewhat unwelcome ability I have. And the one I have seen…I will not allow it to pass.”

I’m struggling to comprehend all this, but I will hear what she has to say. “Alright, I’m listening.” 

“Good,” the Countess smiled. “Be my guest at the palace for a short while. I will of course see to it that you are provided every luxury.”

“Be…your guest?”

“Yes. I ask only that you bring your skill, and the arcana.”

The arcana? My eyes dart toward the curtain partition, where Asra’s cards still lie on the table. Why did my master leave them with me? Did he know somehow that the Countess would come looking for me, and the cards? I looked back to see the Countess watching me, waiting for my answer. 

“I…am at your service, Countess,” I sigh resignedly.

“Excellent,” she beams. “I will alert the guard to expect you tomorrow. But first, I would like a reading from you.”

“Of course,” I murmur, leading her into the back room. She sits in the chair that Asra so recently vacated himself, and I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu as I shuffle the deck once more. Countess Nadia sits sedately, eyes closed, a far cry from our usual patrons, who watch my every move with intense curiosity. 

I draw the Magician. He represents willpower, manifestation of ones’ desire. I close my eyes and listen for his words.

“You have a plan,” I repeat as the feelings and images of the arcana wash over me. “It has been years in the making, but the time to act is now. Everything has fallen into place.”

“Say no more,” the Countess says, and as I open my eyes I see her gaze flash with determination. She stands swiftly, throwing back the partition before I’m even on my feet. I quickly follow.

“Your fortunes are much the same as the others I’ve heard,” she observes as she winds her cowl back around her head, obscuring her distinctive hair and delicate features. “Yet, you are the first to pique my interest…” her voice trails off, and she moves toward the door before sending a significant glance in my direction.

“Oh!” I leap to action, rushing ahead of her to hold open the door. Her mouth twists in amusement as she strides past me.

“Until tomorrow, magician,” she says, and disappears into the moonless night. 

I shut the door and stand there, frozen. The Countess had come into my shop, asked for a reading, and requested my presence at the palace…

“What just happened?” I whisper to myself, pressing my forehead into the cool wood of the door. 

“Strange hours for a shop to keep,” remarks an amused voice from somewhere behind me. With a yelp, I spin around, slamming my shoulder into the door in my haste. I stare toward the back door, which I was certain I locked, but see no one. 

“Over here,” says the voice, seeming to come from a different direction than before. I turn quickly to face the curtain hiding the reading room. 

A tall figure looms in the shadows there, a great billowing cloak obscuring their silhouette. Their face is hidden by a plague mask, sending chills down my spine. 

“I was of the understanding that this was the witch’s lair,” the figure says, advancing slowly, “so I wonder, who are _you_?” 

I back up, but am barely able to take a single step before my back hits the solid wood of the front door. 

“Who are you?” I squeak, as the figure advances. 

They chuckle. “I believe I asked you first.” 

“And this is my shop,” I counter, anger at the intrusion slowly overcoming my fear. 

“A fair point,” they respond, laughing heartily. It’s a pleasant laugh, contagious, not at all consistent with their ominous appearance. They reach up and throw the mask to the floor with a flourish. 

I gasp in recognition. Wavy auburn hair, one gray eye, high cheekbones…it can’t be.

“You recognize me,” the stranger states. “I can tell by your expression. Shock. Horror. Then you know the position you are in.”

Shock is accurate, but I wouldn’t describe what I’m feeling as horror. I knew the rumors, of course, that he killed the Count three years ago…but the common folk still speak of him with fondness. 

“Doctor Jules?” I say, flabbergasted. 

The sneer on the man’s face falls as his eye widens in surprise, but he tries to hide it behind another scowl. 

“Quite so,” he says. “Now tell me, where is the witch?”

My mind is reeling from the events of the night. Countess Nadia, and now Julian Devorak…but I know one thing. If it’s Asra this man wants, I need to know that his intentions are not malevolent before I give him any information. 

“Why should I tell you?” I ask.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” he says. 

“Then you’ll get nothing from me.” I’m pleased that my voice is so even, because my heart is thundering in my chest. He’s looming over me now, crowding me against the door, and there’s nowhere for me to run. 

“That is unfortunate,” Doctor Jules says, disappointment crossing his face. “Very well then. If you won’t tell me…then will you at least tell my fortune?”

I’m beginning to feel like my face will be permanently stuck in an expression of stupefied shock after tonight, but I can’t help my jaw dropping open at his sudden change in demeanor. He laughs, delighted. 

“You are a fortune teller, yes? No sense in wasting the visit, if you won’t tell me what I want to know.”

He steps back from me, and bows, holding one arm out toward the reading room, gesturing me ahead of him. At a loss for other options, or even a scathing retort, I let my feet carry me into the backroom for the third time tonight. I’m feeling a bit dazed as I settle myself in the reader’s chair. 

“Ah, I used to love places like this,” Doctor Jules says as he seats himself across from me. If anything, I’m even more confused. First he somehow breaks into the shop, threatening me and asking where Asra is…and now he’s making small talk? I have no idea what to make of this man.

Because I can’t think of anything semi-intelligent to respond with, I simply begin shuffling the cards. I can feel his gray eye tracking my movements as I draw a card.

Death.

There’s a moment of silence as we both stare at it. Then, abruptly, Doctor Jules barks out a mirthless laugh. 

“Ha! Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me.” 

There’s dark emotion on his face, deep pain in his eyes. I find myself so shocked at his words that I cannot find the emptiness I need to hear if the arcana speaks. The Doctor spins on his heel and strides back out to the other room. 

“Allow me to let you in on a secret, in exchange for your hospitality,” he calls to me as I slowly rise from my seat. “Your witch friend will return for you. When he does, seek me out, for your own sake. He is more dangerous than you know.” Plucking his mask from the floor, the Doctor fixes me with a hard, appraising stare, and with a dramatic twirl of his cape, strides out through the front door. 

“Don’t let him fool you, shopkeep,” his voice drifts back to me, before the door clicks shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> September and October are going to be fairly busy for me, so I'm not sure how regularly I'll be able to update this ( ~~I just really wanted to post this~~ ), but my goal is to get a chapter out every other week. Thanks for reading~


	2. Fate Unraveled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Take the path less traveled_  
>  _Face the darkness on my own_  
>  _Into the starlight will I go_  
>  _Until the end I will roam_  
>  _Fate itself unraveled_  
>  _Make the emptiness my home_  
>  _Into the starlight will I go_  
>  _Soaring into the unknown_  
>  ‘Into the Unknown’, Starset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said my goal for the next couple months was to update every other week but I'm going to be out of town this weekend so you get a chapter a bit early! And it's a long one! Enjoy~

**III: The Empress**

 

Asra is beside me, riding on the back of an unfamiliar beast.

“Where is this?” I ask, looking around. As far as the eye can see, in all directions, is reddish brown sand, stretching below a sky filled with dark clouds.  The only variation in the landscape is the road we stand on, extending ahead of us in a line of black stone. 

Asra sighs. “If I told you, you’d have to promise me never to seek this path.  And even I am not such a hypocrite as that, Ourania.”

So he won’t tell me. But this strange place seems familiar to me…like a half-remembered nightmare. 

I try again. “Where does this path go?”   

Asra shrugs. “There will be a crossroads soon.  Where the path goes depends on which one you take.”

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes at the statement of the obvious. I love my master dearly—I owe him everything.  But when he’s trying to be vague, which is frequently, I get easily annoyed. 

“You need to rest,” he says, and just like that, the dream fades.

*

The moonless, quiet night turns to a bright day, the noises of the city sifting through the walls of the shop to where I lie on the bed. I stare at the ceiling, mind awhirl.  Today I go to the palace, at the request of the Countess. 

It doesn’t take long at all to throw a few of my belongings into a pack. A few changes of clothes, hygiene items, and, of course, Asra’s tarot deck.  Since I don’t know why the Countess wants me, I can’t really prepare.  I wish I’d thought to mention her visit to Asra during my dream last night, but I can’t do anything about it now. 

I ensure that each lock is secured when I leave, and as an added precaution, magically seal the door behind me. The morning is still cool, the dawn light filtering through the mist, but even so the streets are bustling.  Shopkeepers are opening doors and sweeping stoops; laborers scurry about on their way to their duties.  The alley beside the shop is a sole place of quiet, mist settling sluggishly away from the busy street. 

Suddenly, the swirling vapor is disturbed, rolling away in agitated eddies as a hulking figure lumbers through. The hair on the back of my neck rises as I watch the figure approach. 

He’s tall—taller than almost anyone I’ve ever seen before. Dark furs swaddle his arms and head, and belts crisscross a scar-studded chest.  A broken chain dangles from the figure’s neck.  He looks more like a wild animal than a human being. 

He stalks towards me like a predator, watching me with gleaming green eyes. I swallow, hard. 

“You are in danger,” the stranger says, voice rumbling from deep in his chest. He stops an arm’s length away from me, and the mist slowly settles back in around him, obscuring his features.  “He will return uninvited.  He will offer you a gift, when you need it most.  And if you accept it, you will fall into his hand…like all the rest of us.”

Green eyes pierce my gaze, solemn and intense. Then the stranger turns and disappears back into the mist, leaving behind only the faint scent of myrrh.

I take a deep breath and shakily move away from the shop, toward the marketplace. Who was the strange man warning me about?  Doctor Jules?  The doctor was the only uninvited guest I’d had recently…though the doctor had tried to warn me about Asra, saying he was dangerous.  But I’d known Asra for three years…his was the first face I’d seen when I’d awoken from whatever had happened before, and he had been by my side ever since.  He taught me to use my magic, to survive in the world with my amnesia—to _live_. 

I’m so absorbed in my thoughts I don’t even realize I’ve stepped onto the wooden walkway through the marketplace until the baker speaks my name.

“Ourania! I wondered if I’d see you today.  Would you care for some breakfast?” 

I smile back at him, stomach rumbling. I dearly love his pumpkin bread…but it will take me time to traverse the city and make it to the palace. 

“I’ve a pumpkin loaf almost out of the oven,” he offers, and that decides me. One brief detour on this trip won’t hurt, right?

“Alright,” I agree, seating myself at the long wooden table set just inside his stall.

“Unusual to see you out and about so early without Asra,” the baker remarks. “Is he sleeping in and letting you run his errands?”

I laugh lightly. Asra and I are regular customers here, and the baker loves to tease my master. 

“No, he’s on a journey,” I tell him, sipping at the spicy tea he’s set before me.

“Oh, without you? Where is he?”

I feel my cheeks color. “I don’t know.”

The baker raises an eyebrow curiously, but holds his tongue. “Well then, where are you off to this morning?” He asks instead. 

“Ah…” I hedge, but he sends me an all-too-knowing look, and I realize that the gossip mill has already gotten wind of the Countess’ visit.

“The palace,” I admit, and he slaps his hand down atop the table.

“So it is true!” He exclaims. “There have been whispers all morning, of the Countess herself sneaking into town, wandering about like a lost lamb until she found her way to your shop.”

I let him ramble, focusing on my tea. Suddenly, I hear a harsh cry.  A raven is perched above me, and meets my gaze when I swivel my head.  Its beady eyes stare into mine, and I feel that it is trying to tell me something.  Then its gaze shifts behind me. 

I turn to follow the bird’s eyes, and nearly choke on a mouthful of hot liquid in my shock. There, perusing the market like he hasn’t a care in the world, is Julian Devorak!  His head and face are uncovered, and he’s wearing the same dark coat and cape as last night.  No one else seems to realize that there is an accused murderer in their midst. 

I watch him, intrigued by his presence here. From what I saw last night, his menacing façade is just an act.  He hardly had the aura of a murderer—not that I’ve got any basis for comparison. 

“Here you are,” the baker announces, plopping a steaming loaf wrapped in a kerchief before me, but my eyes never leave the doctor.

“Hey now, what’s so interesting? You’ve never ignored one of my pumpkin loaves like this before.”  He cranes his neck around to see what I’m staring at. 

“Ah, nothing, just lost in thought,” I panic. I have no idea if the baker might recognize Julian, but until I know why exactly he’s seeking Asra I don’t want to turn him in to the guards just yet. 

Just as abruptly as before, the raven caws again, and Doctor Jules looks towards us. His eye lands on me, and his expression shifts into one of surprised recognition.  We stare at each other for a breath, and then he takes a step toward me. 

“Oh look at the time, I really need to be going,” I say to the baker, jumping up. “Thanks so much for the pumpkin bread.”

He’s watching me in bafflement, and I’m out of the stall with my bread before he even opens his mouth to mumble a half-hearted farewell. I dash through the market, dodging and weaving around the many people.  

I glance back a few times, but there’s no sign of the doctor following me. My racing heart gradually slows, and I settle back into a more sedate pace as I approach the stairway out of the market.  I swivel my head around to gaze behind me one last time—

—and walk right into a person backing out of a fortune teller’s booth.

“Oof!” Grunts the stranger, spilling a heavy load of fruit out of their basket. Brilliant red pomegranates fall to the cobblestone steps, bouncing down the stairs.  I gasp in dismay.  Pomegranates are an expensive fruit, and to see so many of them…this stranger must be someone of great import.

“I’m so sorry!” I exclaim, hurrying to help the stranger pick up their precious load.

“Oh, no, it was my fault,” she says, crouching down to snag a pomegranate before it gets crushed. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.  I was too busy trying to remember my lucky numbers…what were they again?  Oh yeah.  Three, six, seven, nine.  Three, six, seven, nine…”

She continues muttering her lucky numbers to herself as we round up the last of the fruits.

“That was so sweet of you to help,” she says when we’re finished, smiling broadly at me. Her clear eyes twinkle with delight.  “And when it was my fault in the first place.”

“I wasn’t watching where I was going either,” I say hurriedly, embarrassed.

She laughs, a joyful and pure sound. “Then I guess it was both of our faults.  I probably shouldn’t do this, but…here, for your trouble.”  She hands me one of the precious red fruit.  “Take care now!”

I stammer my thanks, and she disappears into the crowd. I carefully place the pomegranate in my pack.

“That was Portia,” says a voice behind me. I turn to see the fortune teller standing in the entrance of their booth, watching me shrewdly. 

“Portia?” I ask, confused. Should I know this person?

“She’s the Countess’s favorite servant. But you look like someone setting up for a great adventure.  Care to have your fortune told?”

“Ah…no, thank you,” I say politely. The Countess didn’t tell me that I was to arrive at a specific time, but all the same I’d like to get to the palace as soon as I can. 

“As you wish,” the fortune teller murmurs. “Though your fate will come to you either way.”

*

The sun has settled into its descent by the time I reach the gate to the palace. The elegant building shines with light, white walls glimmering in the dusk.  Before the doors stretches a long walkway, culminating before me in an intricately molded gate. 

“Halt,” calls one of the two guards standing on either side of the gate. “Who goes there?”

“My name is Ourania. The Countess requested my presence.”

The pair exchange glances.

“We have no knowledge of an Ourania,” the guard said pompously. “And unless you know the code, you may not enter.” 

“Er…the Countess may not have known my name,” I realized suddenly, sheepish that I hadn’t realized that before. “I’m the magician’s apprentice.  But she didn’t tell me of any code to enter.”

“It’s a series of four numbers,” the second guard states. “No one is to enter without it.  We will escort you away, violently if necessary.”

I stare at them, beginning to panic. The Countess hadn’t said anything about a code…she’d just told me to present myself to the palace.  And her servant earlier today hadn’t mentioned such a thing, though she likely hadn’t known who I was…

Wait. What if she _did_ know who I was, and this was a test?  She’d been so concerned with her lucky numbers…

“I know the code,” I said hurriedly, as the guards began to shift restlessly, hands resting on their sword hilts. “It’s three, six, seven, nine.”

The guards exchange a long look, before finally releasing their weapons and swinging the gate open for me. I heave a heavy sigh of relief, and walk through the gate. 

*

The sun is dropping below the horizon as I start across the bridge. The palace glimmers golden in the fading light, and I’m so absorbed in staring at it I don’t hear the footsteps approaching behind me. 

“Oh!” Exclaims a voice. “Hello again!”

I turn. It’s Portia, the servant from earlier. 

“Hello,” I greet her shyly.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, looking confused.

I’m taken aback. “What am I doing here?  I was summoned by the Countess.”

“Oh, are you the magician?” She claps her hands together, careful not to spill her basket.

“I…yes, I am. I thought you knew that?  When we met earlier?  You were giving me the code when you were talking about your lucky numbers, weren’t you?”

“No, I had no idea!” She exclaims. Then she cocks her head to the side.  “What code?”

“The code to get in the gate,” I say in confusion. “The guards said I needed it to enter…I assumed it was a test, to ascertain my competence…”

Portia gives me a blank look. “There’s no code,” she said finally.  “I suspect they were trying to prank you.  But you gave them my lucky numbers?”  She barks out a laugh when I nod.  “Ha!  I bet they had no idea how to react when you just rattled off a code instead of getting flustered.  Looks like those numbers were lucky after all!”

She continues chattering all the way across the long bridge, telling me about the palace (“it’s rather confusing at first, but you’ll learn your way around in no time, and I’ll be happy to help whenever you need me”), the grounds (“don’t fall in the moat—there’s vampire eels in there, you don’t want to tangle with them”), and the Countess (“I know the city folk have painted her as a bit of a tyrant, but she’s really very nice, and wants to be a kind and just ruler”).

Before I know it, we’re approaching the enormous front doors. My stomach twists with nerves as the reality of being here, at the palace, finally sets in. 

Portia hooks her arm around my elbow comfortingly. “Don’t worry,” she whispers in my ear, just as the doors swing silently open. 

*

The interior of the palace is just as magnificent as the exterior. Everything shines, and there are tasteful tapestries and carpets softening the cold, clean lines of stone.  As we enter, a diminutive servant with a blue feather in their cap approaches. 

“Welcome, Portia, and magician,” they say. “You have impeccable timing!  Her ladyship has yet to descend from her chambers, and the first course will be served shortly.”

Portia smiles at them. “Excellent.  I’ll take Ourania there straightaway.” 

The servant scurries away, taking the basket of pomegranates with them, and Portia sweeps me off down the hall. I’m vaguely aware that I’m staring around me, stupefied by the opulence. 

Portia opens a carved mahogany door and escorts me inside. As soon as I step over the threshold, delicious smells assault my nose.  Based on the aroma, it seems the meals served at the palace are just as extravagant as the building itself.  A small group of instrumentalists are gathered in one corner, providing soft music.  The room is dominated by a long table, groaning under the weight of an enormous quantity of food. 

“Ah, good, our guest has arrived.” The Countess sweeps into the room, favoring me with a small smile.  I return the smile and bob a hesitant bow. 

“No need to stand on protocol,” the Countess laughs. “Please, have a seat.”

Servants begin scurrying about as the Countess seats herself at the head of the long table. I settle in near her, before noticing the painting on the wall.  It’s enormous—almost the length of the table itself.  The figures depicted are human-sized and lifelike, but they all have animal heads.  The figures sit at a table very much like the one we are sitting at in the dining room, and they all gaze adoringly at the figure in the center—a goat with especially fine clothing and a shining golden crown.  It almost seems to be staring at me. 

I shiver, and Countess Nadia speaks. “Do you like the painting?”

“Ah…” I flounder. “It’s…an interesting piece.”

She chuckles. “How diplomatic of you.  There is no shame if you dislike it—I find it rather distasteful, myself.  But it was a favorite of my late husband.  The goat-headed one is supposed to represent him.  He liked to fancy himself a provider.”

Her tone sours as she says this, and I suddenly wonder if she was really fond of her husband. I don’t remember anything from the time when Count Lucio ruled, but the tales I’ve heard of him are varied, painting him as either a benefactor who spared no expense or a spoiled dictator.

“Did you ever attend our Masquerade, Ourania?” The Countess asks suddenly. I blink, surprised to learn that she did in fact know my name. 

“Most did, I suppose,” she continues without waiting for my response—just as well, since I can’t recall ever having attended a Masquerade. She seems to misinterpret my silence.  “I know it is an uncomfortable subject.  The Masquerade was known fondly by the citizens of Vesuvia, and Lucio’s murder is now inextricably tied to its memory.”

There are a few gasps from the servants lining the walls, and I gather that I am not the only one shocked to hear Nadia speak so bluntly of her husband’s death. His murder was the stuff of legend—burned alive at his own birthday Masquerade, while the Red Plague ravaged the city.  And, of course, the culprit being one of the doctors Count Lucio had brought in to combat the plague—Doctor Jules.

“That is why I called you here,” Nadia continues, ignoring the reaction of her servants. The murmurs fall silent as all in the room strain to hear her next words.  “This year, we will hold the Masquerade once more.”

I see the servants exchanging shocked glances as I stare at the Countess. “What does this have to do with me?” I ask finally.

She smiled. “There is one loose end that needs attending to—bringing the murderer to justice.  That is why I called you here.  You will find the man who murdered my husband in cold blood: Doctor Julian Devorak.”

This time, the shocked gasps are punctuated by the crash of breaking glass. The Countess and I both swivel to look at Portia, who is standing above the wreckage of an elaborate dessert, horror painting her face. 

“F-forgive me, milady!” She gasps, face glowing red with embarrassment. “I will clean it up immediately.”

“You are forgiven,” Nadia says dismissively, turning her attention back to me. “Ourania, I need your help tying up this last loose end.  I told you that I can see the future, in my dreams.  This is how I know that you will be the one to find Julian Devorak, and bring him to justice.”

Her words echo through my mind, sending me reeling. Me?  Find a murderer?  I had to fight the urge to laugh.  I had found him, alright, but it had been entirely accidental and I wasn’t certain I could do it again. 

“What if I can’t?” I ask.

“I know that you can,” she replies simply. “And if it is more a matter of won’t, then I will persuade you to reconsider.  But I will let you think on it for the night.  Portia, escort our guest to her room.”

The young woman still looks shaken from her earlier mishap. “At once, milady,” she agrees breathlessly, bowing to the Countess before rushing me out of the room.

*

In contrast to her earlier chattiness, Portia is quiet as we walk down the hallway. She seems to be deep in thought.  I’m idly admiring the décor when we pass a shadowy stairway.  Two beautiful dogs lay curled up together on the bottom step.  They rise as we grow nearer. 

White coats gleam, and red eyes watch me with interest. Both beasts’ shoulders almost reach to the middle of my thigh, and I step back despite myself as they approach to sniff me. 

“Oh!” Portia gasps as the dogs begin to wag their tails. I meet her eyes with a questioning glance. 

“They hardly ever get up from that stair,” she explains. “And they never take kindly to strangers.”

“Why not?” I ask nervously. The dogs are still sniffing me, growing bolder and more enthusiastic. 

“It’s just how they were trained. They were Count Lucio’s…Oh!  I bet they haven’t had their chamomile cakes.  I’d best fetch them or these two will never sleep.  I’ll be right back.”

Quick as a flash, she’s gone, and I’m alone with the two dogs. I meet their gaze, and a chill stutters through me. 

_“Ooooh, what do we have here?”_ The voice is clear, but seems to come from nowhere in particular.  I glance around wildly, but see no one. 

Then, the dogs lunge forward, grabbing my draping tunic and belt in their teeth, and pull me toward the stairs.

_“Bring that morsel to me, my beauties, that’s right…”_ says the disembodied voice.  This time is sounds like it’s coming from the darkness at the top of the stairs. 

I pull away from the dogs, fear coursing through my veins. Immediately, their friendly demeanor changes, and they snarl, snapping at me. 

_“Now now, best behavior, you two.”_ The voice is accompanied by a sweltering heat behind me, pushing me forward up the stairs.  I shakily ascend the steps.  As I do, the dogs’ snarling ceases, and they begin to wag once more. 

_“Yessss,”_ hisses the voice. _“It’s been far too long since we’ve had company…good dogs, very good.”_

The two bounce up in excitement before scrambling back down the stairs. I see nothing ahead of me but the dark hallway. 

_“Now then, let’s take a proper look at you,”_ the voice muses, and the air around me suddenly turns scorching hot.  I could swear there’s a presence at my side, breathing hot into my ear, but no matter how I turn I can see no one.

_“Now, hold still,”_ the voice commands, before ‘tsking’ in disapproval. _“Cheap clothes, plain shoes…just another dirty peasant, tracking filth through my halls…but the dogs did say you smell delicious…and what have we here?”_

The heat congregates at the top of my head, bringing the strangest sensation that my energy is all being sucked up through my crown. The voice groans. 

_“I know this signature, in your energy. It’s his, oh yesss…Asraaaaa…”_

My skin prickles as the voice says my master’s name. I’m suddenly very, very afraid. 

_“Was it you, who broke him for me?”_ A menacing chortle. _“I’d just love to get to know you…”_

A dampening sensation, as though my senses are being numbed. Dimly, I’m aware that the heat is ushering me down the hallway, my feet moving of their own accord. 

“Ourania?” Portia’s voice calls, breaking me from the trance-like state. I feel fingers tighten on my shoulders, burning, before they release. 

_“Too bad,”_ murmurs the voice, the presence coming around to stand in front of me.  _“We’ll resume this another time. In the meantime….I’ll be watching you, Ourania.”_

I see a hazy figure take shape—a white goat, with glowing red eyes—and then the presence is gone, as though it was never there to begin with.

*

Portia is looking for me when I stagger back into the hallway.

“Oh, there you are!” She exclaims, catching sight of me. “Did the dogs wander off?  I’ll just leave these cakes here for them, and we’ll get you to your room.  You look a bit tired.”

I stumble along in her wake as we travel further down the hallway. The haze in my mind is slowly dissipating, but I still feel disoriented.  I’m relieved when Portia finally stops and opens a modest door. 

“These will be your quarters while you’re staying here at the palace, Ourania,” Portia says, gesturing me inside. A plush bed dominates one half of the room, with a large dresser and vanity table peeking out from behind a painted screen.  Comfy-looking armchairs surround a low table in the other half of the room. 

“Make yourself at home, and I’ll wake you at sunrise for breakfast,” Portia says as I peruse the room. “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”  She looks at me expectantly as I drop my small pack in one of the armchairs.  I manage a weak smile.

“Thank you very much, Portia. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She waves goodnight, and as the door clicks shut behind her, I drop onto the soft bed, and let sweet oblivion claim me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention last time that I made a Julian-inspired playlist to listen to while I’m writing. If you’re interested, you can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/pyrojellyfish/playlist/0gjIbdviv0MqT2PlRAPFfk?si=WwsSR9rjRXeUNiT620Zxwg).  
> Also, we’re rated T for now, but there’s a pretty good chance that will change once we actually get the romance going, fyi. Either that or I’ll create a new work for any smut…I haven’t decided yet so feel free to weigh in if you have a preference. Thanks for reading!


	3. Too Many Reasons to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I've been thinking about it_  
>  _Too much doubting_  
>  _All of these feelings_  
>  _Too many reasons to run_  
>  _The time has come_  
>  _The time has come_  
>  ‘Right Left Wrong’, Three Days Grace

**III: The Empress, Night**

It’s still dark when I become aware of myself again. I have no idea how long it’s been since Portia left—minutes, or hours—but a nagging feeling in the back of my mind leaves me certain that I will not find sleep again.  Something seems to be calling to me. 

I slowly make my way out of my room into the hallway, wall sconces still burning merrily. The only indication of the hour is the utter absence of any other person.  I breathe deeply, and let intuition guide me down the corridors. 

I’m quite turned around by now, and am starting to worry about getting back to my room, when I suddenly realize I’ve been in this part of the palace before. The shadowed stairway looms ahead of me, the dogs blending in with the snowy marble at the bottom step.  They open their eyes and focus on me. 

The memory of my earlier encounter in that dark wing sends a shiver down my spine, and I take a hesitant step backwards. The dogs rise, shaking their coats out, and begin to trot toward me. 

I turn on my heel and run.

I can hear their panting breath behind me, toenails drumming staccato beats on the marble floor. I take a turn, hoping to escape them, and find myself on a veranda overlooking the garden.  Stars twinkle in the sky, and a soft breeze caresses my cheek.  The sounds of pursuit from the dogs have stopped. 

Hesitantly, I descend the stairs to the garden, and enter the silent hedge maze. The air is rich with the smell of plant life and the soft noises of night birds.  The soft tinkling of a fountain grows louder the farther in I go. 

After only a few moments I reach the center of the maze. An enormous, elegant willow tree drapes over the fountain, a few spindly branches trailing in the pool at its base.  A familiar white and lilac colored snake dangles from one of the branches, watching me upside-down. 

“Faust!” I exclaim, surprised to see her here. Asra had taken her with him when he left, and usually she only returned when he did.  I peer around the base of the tree, but there’s no sign of my master.  I turn my attention back to the snake.  She wriggles over the gazing pool, watching me intently. 

Obediently, I seat myself on the cool marble at the fountain’s edge, and Faust leans over me, guiding my gaze into the shallow pool. At first, I only see water, and our reflections, rippling and distorting.  But the longer I look, the reflections begin to drop away, and I find myself staring at my master, hands cupped to his face as he drinks. 

His eyes meet mine, and he splutters, startled.

“Ourania!” He exclaims, leaning forward to peer at my face. “Can you see me?  Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I respond. “I don’t know how though.  I think it was Faust.”

“Faust is there? Then she found you alright?  Good.”

“I thought you were taking her with you?”

He sighed. “I was, but I had a feeling that you might need her.  So I sent her back.”

We both glance overhead, at the snake still dangling from the willow. Her mouth is curled up smugly, and she wriggles with joy when our attention focuses on her. 

Asra laughs. “Where are you?  That’s definitely not the shop.”

“No, it’s not,” I say. “Actually, I’m at the palace.”

His eyes widen as I relate my tale—the mysterious visits the night before, the return of Julian Devorak, Countess Nadia recruiting me to bring the doctor to justice for Count Lucio’s murder.

He’s silent for a time after I finish, and his eyes are distant.

“Master?” I ask hesitantly, after the silence has become uncomfortable. He looks at me with a start, and then a wry smile.

“Still calling me that…” he mutters. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when all this happened to you, Ourania.”

“You couldn’t have known,” I offer. “And anyway, you’ll be back soon, right?”

He only smiles solemnly, not answering the question. “I should go, Ourania.  But I’m glad I could see you.  Be careful, at the palace.”

Then the pool ripples, and his image vanishes like a mirage. Faust drops over my shoulders, squeezing me comfortingly while she looks sadly at the pool.  I carefully rearrange my shawl to hide her, and then slink silently back into the palace. 

**IV: The Emperor, Day**

Daylight pricks at my eyelids, and I slowly swim back into consciousness. There’s a vague memory, of another dream…I can still see the black road, branching off in two directions.  And Asra—taking the wrong fork.  I tried to reach him, to make him hear me, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t…

“Good morning,” Portia crows, gliding in through the door. “Did you sleep well?  Need anything?  Another blanket, or pillow?”

“No…no, I’m fine,” I thank her, a bit overwhelmed by such enthusiasm in the morning.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” she says. “Breakfast will be served soon.  The Countess has taken the liberty of providing some new clothes for you to wear.”

I wryly remember the musings of the ghostly voice from yesterday. _”Cheap clothes, plain shoes...”_ I suppose my usual appearance isn’t what a Countess is accustomed to.  The thought makes me frown.  Just what was that ghostly voice that I heard?

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with your current clothes,” Portia says hurriedly, misconstruing my scowl. “Milady merely wants to assure you that your presence here is appreciated.”

“Of course,” I murmur, and hurry behind the screen to change into the new outfit. It’s a dress, of a deep sapphire accented with silver-colored hems and embroidery.  The fabric is soft and light, flowing around me becomingly. 

Portia claps delightedly when I step out. “Oh, you look lovely!  Milady has an excellent eye for color, doesn’t she?”

I smile in agreement, and scoop up my bag before following the handmaiden into the hallway.

Nadia is waiting in the dining room, cradling her head in one long-fingered hand. I see faint bags under her eyes when she looks up at us, but her greeting is just as cordial and warm as the night before. 

“Good morning, Ourania. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I am pleased to hear it. I, alas, did not.  The dreams were exceptionally vivid last night, and yet I cannot remember anything from them…” She trails off, massaging her temples.  Portia places a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. 

“Thank you, Portia,” Nadia murmurs, bringing the cup to her lips. Her gaze sweeps over me appraisingly. 

“Do you like the outfit, Ourania? I trust it was not too much of an imposition to ask you to wear it this morning.”

“Oh, no,” I hasten to assure her, “it’s quite lovely, and fits like a glove.”

She smiles. “It is a wonderful color on you.  Now, tell me, did you perchance bring the cards with you this morning?”

I nod, leaning away from the Countess as a servant places breakfast before us. The smells make my mouth water, and, to my mortification, my stomach gives a resounding rumble. 

Nadia laughs. “Excellent, but I will not stand in the way of your meal.  Eat, and then we will see what the cards say.”

The food is just as excellent as dinner the night before, and all too soon I’m cleaning the crumbs of it off of my plate.

“Send Hestion my complements,” Nadia says to the chamberlain, who I recognized as being the servant to greet us at the door when Portia and I arrived at the palace. “It was an exquisite meal.  And inform my Court that I expect them this afternoon.”

The chamberlain bobs deferentially and dashes off, and Nadia turns her gaze to me. I hurriedly open my bag, realizing at the last second that Faust may have hidden out there.  Thankfully, no snake greets me as I open the pack, and I pull out the cards without mishap. 

“What did you wish to ask, milady?”

“The Count’s birthday celebration, the Masquerade, is in thirteen days,” she replies. “I must know before the day is out whether you will help me or not, for time is limited.  In the meantime, I would like another reading, to see if my fortune has changed.”

Obediently, I shuffle the cards, tuning out the sounds of our breakfast being cleared away.

I draw the Emperor.

“You have proven your wisdom and intelligence, and your ability to rule. You have built trust from doubt, order from chaos, and your lessers no longer hesitate to bow before you.  When your will is done, Vesuvia will sing your praises to the stars.” 

I look up as delighted gasps echo through the room. The servants look pleased, and Portia is practically bouncing on her toes in her excitement, but the Countess appears unimpressed. 

She plucks the card from the table, and a wry smile quirks her lips. “I see,” she muses, and then rises.  “Walk with me, Ourania.”

I snap up the cards and follow as she strolls out onto into the hallway. Portia trails at a respectful distance. 

The Countess leads me to an elaborate door, reaching the full height of the hallway and stretching wider than I can reach with both arms spread out. An enormous tree is depicted in inlays of all types of wood, branches stretching to the top of the hall and roots winding below the floor.  Mother-of-pearl and gems add sparkle and color.  I can’t help but gasp at its magnificence. 

Portia comes to stop next to me, pulling a clattering keyring from her pocket, bearing keys matching to the wood inlaid in the door. With a wink at me, she inserts each key into a barely visible lock, hidden with no apparent pattern throughout the panel. 

When the last key turns, the roots of the tree unwind, and the door folds in, splitting along invisible seams. Revealed is a vast library, the smell of ink and parchment spilling into the hallway.  Elaborate stained glass windows along the opposite wall throw light into the room. 

Nadia leads me inside, winding between shelves until she reaches a cozy nook, where a sturdy desk resides under a small window. The desk groans beneath the weight of the books and scrolls stacked atop it, but the piles are neat, speaking to an organized mind. 

“As I’m sure you know,” Nadia says, “Julian Devorak was brought to the palace to try to find a cure for the Red Plague, much like your master, Asra. We called in many experts, hoping to stem the tide of the disease, providing anything they might need in the hopes that one would discover the cure…” her voice trails off and she gazes out the window, at the willow tree and fountain I had visited last night. 

“This was Doctor Devorak’s desk,” she resumes, voice ringing through the silent library. “It has already been examined, meticulously, but perhaps you can find something the previous investigators missed.  I would be much obliged if you would begin your search here.”

I nod briefly, and she smiles in satisfaction before sweeping past me, out the library door. Portia smiles at me reassuringly, seeming hesitant to leave, but follows the Countess, and the door shuts behind them. 

“I hope that can be opened from the inside,” I mumble, before turning my attention to the desk. The resources gathered there are myriad, and I can’t find any method to the way they’re organized, though whether the neat piles were made by Julian himself or whoever investigated before, I can’t say. 

I flip through one of the books, a medical text. There are notes scrawled in the margins, but I can’t make out the words, and I set it aside with the other books to look at more thoroughly later, choosing instead to peruse a stack of documents off to the side. 

“Blast,” I sigh in frustration as I try to make sense of Doctor Devorak’s handwriting. Chickens have had neater penmanship.

I labor on, trying valiantly to make heads or tails of the documents. Some I set aside to look at more closely later.  Some are sketches, labeled diagrams of an unknown subject.  The doctor seems to have spent a lot of time on them, but I can’t determine what they depict.  With another sigh, I set them aside, but then, on a whim, grab one and roll it tightly, tucking it safely away in my bag.  Then I turn my attention to a pile of scrolls in one of the drawers. 

They seem to be letters, if the script ‘J’ at the bottom is anything to go by. Perhaps to a friend or relative, given the simple signature.  I squint at the top of the page, trying to make out the addressee.  Dear sister, perhaps? 

I sit back in the chair, rubbing at the kinks in my aching back. Did Julian Devorak have a sister?  I wonder if the Countess would know, and if we can find where the sister is located.  My eyes drift over the letter once more, and after a moment’s hesitation, I roll it around the diagram I stowed in my satchel. 

A grinding noise startles me.

I turn, to find Portia entering through what must be a servant’s door. How many secret doors are there in this palace, that blend in with the walls so seamlessly?  It’s unnerving. 

“Hello, Ourania,” Portia greets me with a soft smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but milady requests your presence out by the garden.”

I stand with a groan. “It’s probably good for me to walk a bit, anyway.”

She grins, and ushers me out through the door. The sunlight is slanting hot and bright through the corridor, and I realize I must have been in the library for a few hours.  

Countess Nadia is waiting on the veranda, idly watching gardeners bustle about below. She turns with a small smile when we approach. 

“My apologies for drawing you away from your investigation so soon, Ourania,” she begins, “but I was thinking of the fortune you told me after we broke our fast this morning.”

My heart begins to race. What is going on?

“I know the rumors say I do not like fortune tellers,” the Countess continues. “In reality, I only dislike those who tell the customer only what they want to hear.  Frauds, as it were.”

I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

“I do not accuse you, Ourania. But experience has taught me that most fortune tellers are fakes.  I have devised a test to prove to myself that you are not one of them.”

“A test?” I ask weakly.

“A game, if you will,” she replies, smiling mischievously. “Not to worry, I will not harm you.  If you win, my doubts will have been assuaged and I will not question your worth any further.  If you do not, I will release you from this task of apprehending my husband’s murderer.  You will be able to go home and continue on with your life.”

She looks at me expectantly.

“Okay,” I say, unable to think of any other response, but it seems to satisfy her.

“Excellent. Portia, call the prey.”

“Prey, milady?” Portia asks, looking confused.  Then her expression clears.  “Oh!  I see.  At once, milady.”

Nadia gestures me to the edge of the veranda. We watch as Portia summons two people dressed in costumes from the garden.  One seems to be a deer, and one a rabbit.  With a shock I realize they are the guards from the gate.  I stare at them quizzically, wondering what the Countess has in mind. 

“You will be the hunter,” Nadia announces. “These two, your prey.  One of them has something of yours, and your task is to find it before dawn.  A fitting test, since our objective is to find one man in such a large city as Vesuvia, is it not?”

My mind whirled. Something of mine?  “I don’t understand.”

“Is it not possible that something in the desk holds some value to Doctor Devorak? Using such an item, and magic to follow the tether, would save us much trouble in our search.”

“It’s possible, but…I’m afraid I have never done such a thing before, milady,” I say, apologetically. Asra could probably do something like that, but he isn’t here and I have no idea when he will return. 

A self-satisfied smile crosses Nadia’s lips. “Hence this test, my dear Ourania.  The prey will be focused on evading you, and you will be focused on reclaiming what one of them holds.  Your Emperor card.”

I practically choke on my inhale, so suddenly do I draw in a breath. My Emperor card?  Asra’s Emperor card.  She must have taken it at breakfast…Oh no. 

“Are you ready to get started?”

I nod frantically, trying to tamp down my panic. I _have_ to get that card back. 

“Excellent. Trust your intuition, and all will be well.  Now then…Begin!”

The guards leap up, pounding into the garden maze, and I vault down the steps to follow.


	4. Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What are these footprints?_  
>  _They don't look very human like_  
>  _Now I wish that I could find my clothes_  
>  _Bedsheets and a morning rose_  
>  _I wanna wake up_  
>  _Can't even tell if this is a dream_  
>  _How did we end up in my neighbors pool_  
>  _Upside down with a perfect view?_  
>  _Bar to bar at the speed of sound_  
>  _Fancy feet dancing through this town_  
>  _Lost my mind in a wedding gown_  
>  _Don't think I'll ever get it now_  
>  _(Don't think I'll ever get it now)_  
>  ‘Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time’, Panic! At the Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combining as many of the possible canon options as I want? In _my_ fanfic?? It’s more likely than you think!

**IV: The Emperor, Night**

I race into the garden, skidding to a halt when the path forks. From one direction, I can hear snapping branches.  One of the guards, obviously not particularly light on his feet, has fled that way. Soft, rapid footsteps sound down the other path.  I draw a deep breath, and hold it, feeling between the routes. 

Left, after the fleet deer-masked guard. He is swift, but I have the advantage of panic-induced tenacity, so I lope after him, keeping up as best I can.  We twist and turn through the palace grounds, branches obscuring my vision, until abruptly—the palace perimeter looms before me. 

I nearly fall in my haste to stop before I run headlong into the high lemonstone wall, dragging a hand along the ground to steady myself. It stings, but I ignore it and inspect the area.  The path continues along the base of the wall, covered in springy moss.  There’s no sign of the guard I’m pursuing.  There must be another branch to the path somewhere nearby. 

Turns out, there are two: a marble archway, leading into the hedge maze, and a small, rusty door set into the lemonstone wall. The door is slightly ajar, leading out into the golden fields beyond the confines of the palace. 

The freedom of those fields tempts me, but leaving the grounds won’t get me any closer to retrieving the Emperor card, so I turn into the maze, trusting my instincts to lead me through.

When I stumble out into the clearing with the fountain and the willow tree, I stop short. There, backed up against the tree, is one of the guards!  Not the one I’d been following, the deer, but the rabbit, and he’s cringing away from Lucio’s hunting hounds, who are stalking towards him, growling and snarling. 

All three whirl to look at me when I enter the clearing. The guard’s eyes meet mine, his gaze pleading, fearful.  Mercedes and Melchior bound toward me, and I freeze, but their demeanor abruptly changes.  Snarls become wagging tails, and growls become happy barks.  They bounce all around me, sniffing me up and down. 

Melchior finally begins to nose at my bag insistently, and I have a flash of inspiration. Reaching in, I pull out the pomegranate Portia gave me yesterday.  Both dogs immediately sit, staring intently at the fruit. 

“Is this what you want?” I ask, and gently lob the fruit to the other side of the fountain. The hounds race after it, and soon the clearing is filled with the sound of crunching jaws.  I turn back to the tree, but the guard is gone. 

“Blast!”

I start off in the direction I think he’s gone, but the dogs are finished with their pomegranate, and they move around to head me off.

“I don’t have any more, you two,” I tell them, wincing at the grotesque red stains on their white fur.

Mercedes turns to point down one of the pathways, looking back at me. They are hunting dogs…maybe they know what I’m after. 

“You want me to follow? Alright.” 

They wag as if they understand my words, and set off down the path.

*

The dogs lead me to a dilapidated archway, obscured in shadow. The hedges in this part of the maze are unkempt and ragged, the foliage overgrown.  A statue of a pair of goats, locked in combat, top the arch, features fuzzy from years of neglect. 

I have an uneasy feeling. The dogs move to flank the archway, tongues lolling out in canine grins as they watch me.  I remember last night, and the way they escorted me so happily into the abandoned wing of the palace…and my encounter with the strange goat creature.  But my magic is silent when I reach out, feeling for the correct path…and so I charge under the arch before I have a chance to second-guess myself.

My stomach leaps into my throat as the ground disappears from under me, and I’m falling into the darkness. The bitter taste of twisted magic fills my mouth, but just as I realize what it is, it’s gone, and I fall forward onto my hands and knees on cold, gritty stone. 

I’m back in the abandoned wing.

Chills run down my spine, and I freeze, not daring to move a muscle. But the corridor is silent, empty. 

Hesitantly, I get to my feet, and summon a light to my palm. It’s small and flickering, as though the pervasive darkness around me is trying to suffocate it, but even such a small light lifts my spirits in the face of this creepy place. 

I slowly make my way down the long hall, the smell of ash becoming stronger the farther I go. Eventually I notice a door, slightly ajar.  I stretch out all my senses, but I’m still alone in the corridor, and so I give in to my curiosity. 

A lavish bedchamber lies beyond the door, colors muted with dust and ash. I venture a step into the room and an enormous portrait catches my eye—Count Lucio, larger than in life.  The artist rendered him in impeccable detail, and he looks as though he could simply step off the canvas into life. 

I stretch forth my fingers without conscious thought, stroking Lucio’s fine fur cloak, but all I feel is canvas and paint, gritty-smooth with ash.

A prickle at the back of my neck warns me that I’m no longer alone.

_“Nothing like the real thing,”_ the ghostly voice from yesterday whispers in my ear. _“Such a sweet torture, to see but be unable to feel.”_

I scramble back, nearly knocking over a fine table in my haste to get to the door.

_“Going already? You’re no fun,”_ the voice whines. _“Won’t you stay a while?”_

“What do you want?” I cry out, panic gripping my heart. In response to my words, heat blasts me from all sides.  The voice laughs, a cruel, high-pitched cackle, and my nerve breaks.  I bolt for the door, the heat seeming to reach out to hold me back, but I burst over the threshold, and the temperature drops. 

I don’t look back until I’ve reached the top of the staircase I’d come up last night. A monstrous shadow is silhouetted against the wall, ember-red eyes piercing into mine.  My breath catches in my throat, and I tear down the stairs, to the light and life of the rest of the palace.

*

The corridors are deserted, as is the veranda where I left Nadia and Portia. My feet carry me back into the hedge maze with no hesitation, my heart still beating a rapid accompaniment. 

Finally, I slow to a stop, panting and slumping down in the shade of the hedge. My fear is fading, and I feel that I can think rationally about what just transpired.  I gulp in deep breaths as my heart rate slows. 

The archway the dogs had led me to was obviously a portal to the Count’s wing. How many more magic passageways are there in the palace?  I wonder if Portia knows of them.  She’s certainly knowledgeable about the servant’s corridors, tucked away behind the gilded walls. 

I let my mind drift back over my encounter with the ghostly creature. Its goat-like appearance, combined with the portrayal of Lucio as a goat on the painting in the dining room, seems like more than coincidence.  Could it be that Lucio himself haunts the palace as a ghost?  But if so, why would he have the form of a goat, instead of his human shape? 

I don’t know much about ghosts and spirits—they’ve never been part of my lessons from Asra. I wish I could talk to him about all this. 

Thinking of my master reminds me that I still have to catch up to the guard who has the Emperor card. Anxiety squeezes my chest, and I stand quickly.  I ran into the maze so quickly I have no idea where I am now in relation to the exits, nor where the guards might have gone. 

A snuffling sound draws my attention, and I listen intently. Soft padding footsteps, more sniffling…and a very canine sneeze.  Mercedes and Melchior! 

It takes little thought to decide to avoid the dogs. Twice now they’ve taken me to the wing of the palace where Count Lucio was murdered, where the strange Lucio-goat ghost has lurked—and frightened me nearly to death, if I’m being honest. 

Quietly as I can, I rise to my feet and dodge around the corner of the hedge, fleeing in the opposite direction from the dogs.

A few more twists and turns and I find myself outside the maze, once again by the lemonstone wall surrounding the palace. This is a different entrance to the maze than the one I used earlier, but at least there’re only two directions I can choose from now. 

I turn arbitrarily, trailing my fingers along the rough wall, reaching out with my magic. I can find no trace of the Emperor. 

I sigh in frustration. Nadia indicated that she would simply send me home if I proved unable to trace the arcana with my magic…but I don’t want to fail.  Not only would it reflect poorly on my master, but I find myself intrigued with this whole situation—Doctor Devorak, who has returned to Vesuvia after three years and somehow crossed my path twice, the ghost that is most likely the Count, and the Countess, who has prophetic dreams and saw me helping her reach her goal…no, failure is not an option.  I must find that card.

My wandering fingertips slide onto cool metal, and I realize I’ve reached the small rusty door I found earlier. The sun is now setting over the golden fields beyond, and a cool breeze that’s blocked by the wall teases me through the narrow opening. 

I hesitate before the door. I just vowed to stay at the palace, helping the Countess…but even a small moment of peace would be welcome.  And I have no other recourse, as my magic can’t seem to find the missing card.  So, I shove the door open further and squeeze through. 

*

Grasses and shrubs grow wild and untamed beyond the door, swaying gently in the fresh breeze. I inhale deeply, letting the sun drench me in light.  I can see the city stretching out below the palace, off to the side of the valley.  Focusing my breath as Asra taught me to do in times of distress, I begin to mosey toward Vesuvia. 

Night is stretching tentative fingers across the sky when the rolling hills begin to level out. The edge of town is marked by the gradual fading of the grasses into packed dirt, a few ramshackle buildings scattered here and there.  I cloak my magic around me as I turn onto a cobbled street, running parallel to one of the many canals that cross the city.  The smell of water makes me realize I’m parched from my exertion earlier in the day. 

I don’t know this part of town, but if I can find a familiar landmark I can make it back to the shop. My mouth twitches into a wry smile.  Asra gave me an enchanted talisman, when I was first learning from him, so that I would always be able to find my way home no matter where in the city I ended up.  I had stopped wearing it once I’d become more confident in myself, but I wish I had it with me now. 

I follow the canal, and slowly the road morphs into a narrow lane, closed in on both sides by apartments stacked two or three high. Colorful laundry is draped over rickety balconies, and the windows glow with candlelight.  Night is falling quickly, and I still recognize nothing…I jerk in surprise as a door bursts open ahead of me, ricocheting loudly off the stone wall.

“I’ll be right back, just getting a bit of air,” someone calls from the open doorway, drawing my gaze. The building sprawls wider than its neighbors, at the corner of two narrow lanes.  Judging by the clink of utensils and drinkware, and dull roar of conversation, drifting through the open door, it’s some kind of tavern or pub. 

My eyes find the individual who stepped out, and I nearly walk into the canal, jumping back at the last second only to fall backwards over a crate set against a wall. I manage to avoid cracking my head on the cobbles, but not without making an awful racket as I go down. 

“Oh dear, that was quite a tumble. Let me help you.”

I’m trying to scramble to my feet when Julian Devorak leans over me, a hand stretched out before him and a pleasant smile on his lips.  Shock paints his features as he recognizes me, and I freeze. 

“Shopkeep?” He questions after the silence starts to get awkward.  “What are you doing here?” 

“Er…hello, doctor,” I manage, ignoring his question.

He smirks. “A little early to be stumbling through alleyways, isn’t it?”  His long fingers encircle my wrists and easily lift me to my feet.  “You seem to have lost a few things,” he notes, and I look at the ground.  Sure enough, my bag had come open when I fell, and things are scattered on the stony road. 

I dive for the pack to make sure the tarot deck is unharmed. It is, though the energy feels off, warped from the absence of the Emperor.  I sigh in relief. 

“What’s this?” Doctor Devorak exclaims, and I look back to see him gathering my things. The rolled parchments from his desk are in his hands—mostly unrolled.  I snatch them back without thinking.  He stares at me. 

“Are those…mine?”

Now what? The Countess wants me to apprehend this man for murder, but first, I’m not at all certain that I can take him into custody without reinforcements—he is considerably taller than me—and second, the story as I currently know it doesn’t add up.  Granted I’m still at the beginning of my investigation, but nothing I’ve found so far indicates that Doctor Devorak is guilty, aside from his rumored confession. 

I realize I’m staring at him blankly, like a rabbit frozen in the sights of a hawk. He raises an eyebrow at my expression and a smirk twists one side of his mouth. 

“Well,” he says, standing up from his crouch and reaching one arm over his head in a stretch, “I’m parched. Think I’ll head back in.  Would you care to join me?”

Wait, what? Join him?  For a drink? 

“My treat,” he prompts, so I nod stupidly, and follow as he grinningly leads me into the tavern.

*

Though it’s early in the evening, the crowd in the tavern—the Rowdy Raven, according to the sign above the door—already seems fairly raucous. Then again, I don’t have a lot of experience with taverns.  Asra and I usually avoid such loud, interactive environments. 

Greetings—verbal and otherwise—greet the doctor as he escorts me through the room, to a cozy—and nearly private—booth toward the back.

“What’s your poison?” He asks as I slide onto the bench, feeling bewildered as to just how I ended up here. I send him another blank look.

“Ah…leave it to me, my dear,” he says reassuringly, and then whisks away, leaving me alone to stare around the room.

The tavern is filled with bright, warm light, and almost every table is occupied. Two different card games seem to be going, each with a large crowd gathered round.  Barmaids, baring considerable cleavage, roam through the patrons, distributing winks and refills equally.  In the corner by the bar, I can see a lone musician playing for a small audience, but can’t hear the notes over the racket of conversation. 

Julian is at the bar, chatting easily with the barkeeper and a barmaid, who is eyeing him like a lioness eyes a plump antelope. I wonder at his confidence in being out in the open like this.  Do these people not recognize him, or do they just not care?

My gaze returns to the rolled letter and diagram I clutch in my hand, and I fiddle with the edge of the pages nervously. I have a unique opportunity to question the doctor about his involvement with the Count’s murder, but I feel a vague sense of guilt for not trying to arrest him immediately.  Then again, if he doesn’t know that I’m hunting for him on behalf of the Countess, I can simply tell her that he frequents this tavern. 

_But then_ , a voice in the back of my mind nags, _she may consider it treason that you found him and didn’t turn him in immediately. Do you really want to hang with him, just to satisfy your curiosity?_

I jump as a stein is thunked onto the table in front of me.

“My, such a serious face,” Doctor Devorak remarks in a teasing tone. “Is the company not to your liking?”

Whatever my face looks like, his expression folds into one of faint sadness, and he lifts his stein to his lips. I watch his throat bob as he swallows, and then decide just to go for it.  Jerkily, I place the rolled parchment before him.

“Yes, these are yours,” I tell him.

He looks at me in confused surprise, but reaches for the scrolls.

“Where did you get this?” He asks as he unrolls them. The diagram is the uppermost page, and he settles in to study it, brow furrowed in concentration. 

It might be a risk, telling him exactly where they came from, but… “At your desk, in the library.”

He looks blank. “The library…?”

“In the palace.”

A shadow crosses his face. “Ah.”  His gaze returns to the drawing. 

“So…what is it?” I decide to ask. I have the nagging feeling that I should recognize it, like it’s something I should remember…but my master has warned me away from trying to chase memories.  They inevitably end only in pain.   

“Ah, well…” he mumbles, looking uncomfortable, “what do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. It looks…familiar, though.”

His eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline. “Familiar?  That’s…interesting.  To answer your question though, it’s…ah, a slice of a human brain.”

I don’t know what I expected, but that wasn’t it. I lift my drink to my lips to cover my shock.  The drink Doctor Devorak chose for me is pleasant, fruity, slightly fizzy.  I look at the stein in surprise. 

“The drink to your liking?” He asks, smiling lightly at my reaction.

I can feel my face coloring. “Yes.  Thank you.”

His smile widens, then falls as his gaze returns to the page in his hand. Abruptly he peels the second parchment away from the brain diagram, as if he can’t stand to look at the drawing anymore.  His eyes grow round at the sight of the letter. 

“Ah, this is interesting,” he muses. “Really takes me back.” He begins to read.  “‘Dear so-and-so…’”

“Dear sister,” I interject softly.

He stares at me in pure astonishment. “You can read this?”

I shrug noncommittally.

“Remarkable,” he notes, before turning back to the letter. “Yes, ‘dear sister’…”  His voice fades into silence.

I take the time to study the doctor. Upon close inspection, I can see the dark circles under his eyes, and the extreme paleness of his skin—moreso even than me, which is saying something. I wonder where he’s been hiding these last three years.  Wherever it was, he doesn’t seem to have gotten much sun. 

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” I remark.

He jumps. It’s like he got so caught up in the letter that he forgot I was here. 

“Uh, yes. Not many people do.  I haven’t seen her since she was…oh, yea tall.” He gestures with one hand, eyes gazing into the distance.  “It’s been years now.”

“Where is she now?”

His gaze snaps back to the present, and he looks at me with a deep sadness in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

I can’t tell if he’s being truthful, or if he’s caught on to my line of questioning, but I let it lie. He rolls the two parchments back into a tight coil, handing them back to me. 

“You don’t seem like a murderer,” I blurt, then clap a hand over my mouth, wishing I could take them back. Luckily, he just seems amused. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, my dear,” he chuckles.

A moment of companionable silence follows, before a hoarse cry cuts through the hum of conversation in the room. A raven flies in through an open window, shrieking bloody murder.  With a start, I recognize it as the same one that drew my attention to Doctor Devorak in the market yesterday morning. 

“Guards!” Julian exclaims, pulling me to my feet as the patrons of the tavern surge for the door as one.

“What?” I’m baffled by the sudden chaos.

“The raven, Malak,” he explains, ushering me through the throng, shielding me from the press of bodies with his superior height. “He raises hell whenever the Count’s guards come by.”

We pop out of a back door into an alleyway, and the doctor carefully withdraws the arm that was draped protectively around my shoulder.

“Go up this road, take a left, a right, and a sharp right onto a round street. It’ll take you straight to the market,” he explains in a rush.  I wonder if he knew that I was lost, or if some nurturing instinct prompted him to ensure I knew how to get home. 

He turns me to face the direction he wants me to go, but then pauses, eyes softening. “You know, I never did get your name.”

I blink at this change in subject. “Ourania.”

“Ourania,” he repeats, as though feeling out the sound. “A lovely name.  If we meet again, Ourania, please call me Julian.”  Then he presses a firm hand to my back.  “Now, go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~


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